Clash of the Mutants

by Rod Hamon

conclusion

Where have these repulsive creatures come from? Will they kill me? It was while these monsters stood over him that he noticed their fingernails. They were like the claws of a predatory bird, long and sharp.

The four spoke excitedly. “He’s so ugly!”

“An abomination!”

“A corruption of the breed. He must be exterminated.”

“But where’s he from? There may be more of them.”

“Take him to the Thought Police.”

One of the monsters interjected: “I suggest we take him to old man Omicus first. He’ll know what to do.”

Two of the creatures grabbed hold of Kurt, one on each side. They lifted him up bodily and propelled him down the street his feet barely touching the ground. As they frog-marched him along, their claws penetrated the skin of his arms.

“Let go of me, you monsters!” Kurt shouted angrily.

They travelled a few blocks before coming to a doorway where he was ushered into an outer room. The others went into another room, presumably to inform this Omicus person.

The clawed hand of one of Kurt’s captors gripped the back of his neck, forcing his head forward, whilst another held Kurt’s hands firmly behind his back. Under the combined pressure, he was hardly able to prevent himself from falling to the floor. The muscles of his legs ached.

Some time elapsed during which he could hear the croaky voice of an elderly man. “Where’d you say you found him? Why didn’t you take him straight to the Thought-Police?”

After further discussion, Kurt’s captors led him in. The creature sitting behind the desk was an older version of the others with shoulder-length grey hair. The men saluted with raised arm and clenched fist.

The creature studied the man standing before him. Alarm showed on his face. He grabbed the arms of his chair, as if to get up but he had second thoughts.

Perspiration flowed down Kurt’s face as, resigned to the inevitable, he looked with dread at the creature. There seemed little doubt that his captors would torture and eventually kill him.

The creature continued to scrutinize Kurt and, without taking his eyes off him, asked the guards, “Is he violent?”

“Doesn’t appear to be.”

The Omicus creature thought for a moment. “In that case, you can leave him with me. Close the door on the way out. I’ll call if I need you.”

“We’ll secure his hands just in case he tries something.” After tying Kurt’s hands behind his back, the guards left.

Omicus sat down but continued to stare for some time, eyebrows raised. After a lengthy silence, he said, “So, Mr Mutant, where have you come from?”

“My name is Kurt and I come from here, from Earth.”

“Explain?”

“What’s there to explain? I was born here on Earth.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“So where have you been hiding, Mr Mutant, or, should I say, Kurt?”

He made no reply. Although the creature’s appearance was terrifying, there was something about his manner that softened its hideousness.

Kurt felt he could speak freely. “I’ve been away from Earth for about three hundred years visiting star systems,” he said, and then explained that this was only one year in his time.

A furrowed brow and intensity in the old man’s eyes indicated concern. “Were there other space missions like yours?”

“I don’t think so. Mine was a special operation.”

“Special?”

Kurt shrugged his shoulders. “All we knew was that there was some sort of unrest. We had no idea what it was. Had to be serious. Why else would they seek out other planets?”

“I see.”

It was now Kurt’s turn to ask questions.

“Where are all the humans? Have you come from another world? Taken over Earth?”

“As far as we know, there is no life elsewhere,” Omicus replied.

“Then... where’ve you come from?”

The old man stood up, a thoughtful look on his face. He pushed his chair back, walked around the desk and sat next to Kurt. Omicus cupped his long chin in his hands and looked Kurt firmly in the eye. “We are humans, just like you. I know what you’re thinking. We don’t look much alike do we?”

“You’re nothing like a human.”

Omicus was silent for a moment and then spoke again. “You left Earth three hundred years ago, you say?”

Kurt nodded.

“Umm, yes. That’s about the time of the new regime.” He stared vacantly at the ceiling and sighed. A few seconds passed before he turned to look at Kurt again. “I shouldn’t be telling you about this, but I will.” Then, pointing to the door he said, “Those poor devils out there have never known any different. I’m from the old generation. There aren’t many my age. So few recall how all this came about.”

Kurt listened intently.

“A scientist by the name of Hans Olsen — damn him! — was appointed to a prominent position in the International Court. He was a charismatic speaker and a man of action. His ability to solve long-standing economic problems quickly brought him support from every nation. He was considered a great leader with bold ideas.

“Prior to entering politics, he had been a geneticist. This undoubtedly influenced his aim to: purify the human race.” The name Olsen seemed familiar to Kurt. Where have I heard that name before?

Omicus frowned. “Olsen was intolerant of weakness of any kind. Some say that it was the birth of his first child, who was sickly, that launched him into his campaign to refine the human genome.”

“Refine it? Why? I wasn’t aware that the human race needed refining!”

“Oh, it certainly needed something! The human race as a species had always been inherently aggressive and disagreeable. Their entire history had been one of intolerance and conflict.”

Kurt felt intensely annoyed that this hideous creature had the gall to explain to him about humans, to sum up the entire human race in this way. He let Omicus continue.

“Olsen set up a rigidly-controlled scheme of human breeding. He sought the advice of other scientists in determining which characteristics were most desirable: eyes that could see better, noses that could smell better and so on. His aim was to develop a form of human that was less susceptible to disease and with fewer birth defects.

“Although I’m from an older generation, this occurred well before my time, but I can still recall my father and my grandfather speaking in muted tones about these developments. They disapproved of what was happening but it was dangerous to speak against the regime.”

“Isn’t it dangerous then to speak of these things to me, a complete stranger?” Kurt asked.

“Indeed it is, but I probably don’t have long to live and, in a way, you’re not a complete stranger to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I first set eyes on you this evening, I recalled some pictures my father had, pictures of the original human form. When I was still very young, I found some old pictures hidden away in a book. I asked my father about them. He was shocked that they still existed. Then, in a whisper, he explained about Olsen.”

Omicus thoughtfully gazed up at the ceiling again and appeared to be reminiscing. “I still remember those lengthy conversations between my father and grandfather. They would sit in the seclusion of the garden and talk about those terrible times for hours; times when newborn babies were snatched from their mothers’ arms because the child didn’t conform to Olsen’s ideal. People who expressed any misgivings just disappeared. What a monster he was!”

“But surely there must have been people who opposed him?” Kurt thought about his wife and daughter and wondered what had become of them.

Omicus continued: “Olsen was clever. Like many dictators throughout the ages, he was skilful at manipulating the masses. His fanatical campaigns and his promises of better things kept the idea alive. Everything, including movies, television, marches and meetings, were aimed at enforcing the idea that the process of perfecting the human race was for the common good.

“Very few people opposed him. Wherever people gathered, whether it was men at work, women out shopping or kids at school, his ideas were what they all talked about. People were excited about the promises of a better life.”

Kurt had many questions but was aware that those just outside the door would become impatient. “There’s something I don’t understand,” He said. “I realise that three hundred years is a long time but I can’t understand how the human form could have changed so much in this time.”

“I’m no expert on genetics but I remember my father talking about some procedure they were using to modify or manipulate the genes themselves. It was so long ago now I can’t remember the details.”

“Another thing. The movie I watched at the cinema still promoted this propaganda. If everyone is brainwashed now, surely this is no longer necessary?”

Before Omicus had a chance to answer, Kurt said: “And another thing, you and the others referred to me as mutant. Have there been others like me?”

Omicus smiled. “So many questions!”

Anxiously, he looked in the direction of the door. “For a while, mutants were quite common, usually children brought up in country communities. Parents hid their children from the authorities but were soon discovered. They were always hunted down and destroyed. Nowadays, throwbacks are rare but the campaign to eradicate them continues.”

Kurt thought about the human race. Would it now find a way to revert to its true form? From what he’d seen, this possibility seemed unlikely.

Omicus stood up and returned to sit behind his desk. His expression and tone of voice changed. “We have talked long enough. Your guards will be impatient.” He pointed. “Go quietly through that door. I’ll give you five minutes start before I alert them of your escape. Return to your space vehicle and go in search of a home elsewhere. There is nothing here on Earth for you.”

“But aren’t you putting yourself at risk?” Kurt asked.

“Doesn’t matter about me, I’m old. It’s been worth it seeing with my own eyes, the true human form.” He got to his feet again, walked behind Kurt and released the ties securing his hands. Kurt jumped up and made for the door.

As Kurt disappeared into the darkness, Omicus called out “Take care, Mr Mutant! You may be the last true human in the universe!”

It was still raining heavily as Kurt ran. He had no idea which way to go and was petrified he might run into more of the creatures. Exhausted, he turned a corner and slowed down to regain his strength. Just as he did so, he noticed two of the creatures just ahead with their backs to him.

Holding his breath, he quietly turned into an alcove and waited until they’d gone. They continued to speak for some minutes and then strolled off and turned a corner. Kurt couldn’t afford to wait any longer because his captors would be close behind.

He continued on but nothing looked familiar. Damn it. I have absolutely no idea which way to go. He was fearful he might run into more of the monsters. Then in the distance he spotted a building that he recognised. Yes, it’s the building with the canopy where I first sheltered. With renewed strength, Kurt ran towards it. The park was just opposite and in the distance, barely visible amongst the trees, was his spacecraft.

As he entered the park, the shouts of his pursuers could be heard not far behind. They were gaining on him. He could feel his strength draining away but he could run no faster. He still had some way to go and knew that when he reached his craft he still had to enter it and prepare for takeoff.

He could see the craft clearly now but the shouts of “Stop! Stop!” were much closer. Kurt’s lungs felt as if they were about to burst. He summoned the last of his strength, but his legs were numb and would take him no further. He looked back and could see two of the monsters coming through the trees, no more than a hundred metres away.

Kurt shuddered at the sight of their ugly oversized heads bobbing from side to side as they ran. Kurt staggered forward and reached the door of his craft and hauled himself up. The door opened easily and he was soon inside. He flopped on the floor sapped of energy.

But now was not the time to rest. Kurt struggled to his feet, trying to close the door. Just as he did so his pursuers arrived. “Clear off, you misfits! Leave me alone!” He tugged at the door with all his strength but they resisted him. He tried to lever the door shut by placing his feet against the frame, but his enemies were stronger. The door was opening further. I’ll fight them off if I have to. A good hard kick in their ugly faces should do the trick.

The door was now almost fully open. Because of the darkness, he wasn’t able to see his pursuers clearly but was prepared to kick out at the first opportunity. The door swung fully open. He was ready for them and about to strike but stopped himself. The monsters standing before him were changing in appearance. Their ugliness was transforming itself into a human image.

Is this some sort of evil deception or are they real humans? Kurt hesitated not knowing what to do. “But...”

“Let us in, quickly! They’ll soon be here!”

Kurt attempted to speak but was lost for words. He just stood back as the two men entered, closing the door behind them. “Quick! Take off before it’s too late!”

Heavy banging could be heard on the door just as the craft lifted off.

“Just in time,” sighed one of the men.

Kurt laid back, every sinew of his body exhausted. He struggled to speak but was gasping for breath. “Where’ve you come from? I don’t understand.”

“You can relax now,” said the taller of the two men.

“But... are you really humans... I don’t understand?”

“We live among the monster population by morphing our appearance to look like them,” said the other man.

Kurt, still sapped of energy, attempted to speak. “But why?”

“We are, what you might call, undercover agents, seeking out ‘throwbacks’ and rescuing them. Whenever we hear reports of a ‘mutant’, as they call them, we attempt to rescue them by transporting them to our human territories,” said the taller man.

The other man chipped in. “Many of the human children born to the monsters are considered freaks and are killed by their own parents. But for some, the parental instinct predominates and they attempt to hide their children from the authorities - that’s where we come in.”

“ So you plan to overthrown the monsters?”

“Not at all! You see, whilst the monsters have certain physical advantages they are not quite as perfect as intended. They are prone to many diseases that humans can resist.”

The other man added, “Our aim, once we are a large enough group, is to synthesize the two branches of humanity into a super breed that has the best of both worlds.”

Kurt frowned. “Personally I can’t see what’s wrong with the human race as it is.”

The men smiled. “As you learn more about our world you’ll come to realise the benefits of the super-race.”

Kurt wasn’t convinced but asked, “Where are your human territories exactly?’

“We’ll guide you there,” said the man pointed to the map on the monitor. “It’s just south of Lake Van Golu in northern Turkey.”

“Isn’t that...?”

“Yes, where the Garden of Eden was supposed to have been. Appropriate, isn’t it?”

The craft touched down a half hour later, not far from a group of houses. From these streamed humans, hundreds of them, men, women and children. As the door of the craft swung open, these people stood in a wide arc, beaming smiles on their faces.

Kurt held back his tears and thought about the human race, its survival over the ages and marvelled at man’s ability to prevail against all odds.